Carmen Miranda

The Brazilian Bombshell

At Halloween of 2000, the popular web cartoon Homestar Runner made
reference not only to Carmen Miranda, but also to the fact that she'll forever
be mixed up in the minds of the public with the Chiquita
Banana Lady in United Fruit Company advertising. Lead Character Homestar
Runner comments to character Strong Bad, "nice Banana Lady outfit." Strong Bad
responds, "dammit, for the last time, I'm not the Chiquita Banana Lady, I'm
freakin' Carmen Miranda!"

Arguably no other female singer and actress endures so well as a pop-culture
icon than Carmen Miranda, who passed away at age 46 in 1955. And certainly few
other female super-stars are remembered quite as warmly as is Miranda. None
have etched a singular, visual image in American pop culture moreso than she.

Who's The Most Visually Recognizable Female Celebrity of the 20th Century?

A famous print ad for Blackglama® mink furs asked the question "What becomes a
legend most?" That headline, combined with the ultra-recognizable
famous women pictured under it, created a very clever combination which won a
Clio award for print advertising. Had Carmen Miranda been alive at the time, I'd
hazard a guess that she'd have been one of the stars featured wearing one of the
exclusive hairy garments.

Sure, the Harold Arlen song "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" brings to mind
Judy Garland; but the song evokes a young, innocent Judy,
long before the troubles which plagued her until her life ended too early as
well. But what visual comes to mind when one remembers Garland? The stylized
tuxedo and hat from "Get Happy?" Sure, that's the most familiar but it's not
ingrained in the public consciousness, only that of her fan base. Her daughter,
Liza Minnelli is recognized immediately for her trademark haircut and eyes. But
as a celebrity, Liza, although talented, has over the years turned into an
emoted caricature of her mother. Her signature tuxedo and top-hat outfit in the
movie and Broadway production of "Cabaret" was nearly a carbon-copy of her
mother's "Get Happy" get-up. Sadly, Ms. Minnelli's antics vis-a-vis
drug and alcohol abuse are the stuff of legend, another more awful way her own
life mirrors that of her mother's.

Talking about cross-dressing, another legend, (who by the way was one of the
women who appeared in the Blackglama mink ads) Julie Andrews, earned nominations
and Oscars for characters with distinctive appearances. But which one is most
identifiable? The umbrella-wielding (Oscar-winning) "Mary Poppins?" Maria, the
nun-turned-nanny in "The Sound of Music?" Or was it a Minelli-esque
cross-dresser in "Victor/Victoria?"

"Mommie Dearest" the book and movie about Joan Crawford, another
Hollywood legend, reminds us of a woman with trademark eyebrows and a lot of
films to her credit who was also a "Queen of Mean," at least as far as her
relationships with the females in her life, particularly her daughter, go.
Another "Queen of Mean" and pop-culture icon, Bette Davis was said to have
uttered the following upon the death of Crawford: "My mother always told me to
speak good of the dead. She's dead. That's good."

Mae West's time was too early. Elizabeth Taylor is of late
remembered more for her penchant for gemstones and her many husbands than for
her accomplishments on the silver screen. And not much of her has been seen in
public since her boy/girlfriend flew off to exile in Dubai.

Princess Grace and Princess Diana
both accomplished a lot and endeared themselves to the public in their own
right. But what visual comes to mind beside perhaps a bejeweled
tiara when thinking of these great women?

Okay, Eartha Kitt was Batman's "Cat-Woman," and to this day, over
80 years of age, can purr like a kitten with the best of 'em. But ask a twentysomething
or even a thirtysomething today "who is Eartha Kitt?" They'll probably respond,
"huh?"

Barbra Streisand was born with her trademark. That nose. The one
her mother assumed would prevent her from becoming a star of song and cinema.
Troubled singer Billie Holiday affected an orchid or other tropical flower in
her hair, as many of her publicity photos demonstrate. But when asked to
remember Holiday, I'd hazard a guess most people would mention her voice, her
phrasing, or her legendary addiction to heroin and alcohol.

Sombrero Con La Ensalada De Fruta

Who can forget the stunning face of Carmen Miranda, luscious lips done in
Ruby Red color. Who can forget the exotic gowns, the platform sandals (some of
which rose a full six inches) exposing a Ruby Red pedicure. And surely one
would've had to be raised in the woods by wolves not to have been exposed
to Miranda's trademark headdress, a veritable fruit salad held together with
satin ribbon and exotic flowers. Carmen Miranda's style re-defined camp.

Camp depends on a glittering surface that often resists
penetration. Carmen Miranda is one of camp's enduring icons, the flamboyant
outsider who makes us love her through sheer force of personality. The "lady in
the tutti-fruitti hat" brought to American wartime audiences an extravagantly
seductive surface: the exoticism of South America, a sensuality tempered by
caricature, and outlandish costumes and fruit-laden "hats" that have an
unsuspected origin in the black slums of Brazil.

Carmen Miranda paved the way for Latin sex-pot and musician Charo. But
where Charo is wild and loud, Miranda was exotic and understated. Indeed, the
first thing that comes to mind when thinking about Carmen Miranda is an
assertive-looking Latina dressed colorfully and wearing an over-the-top hat,
typically decorated with fruit, particularly bananas, Orchids or other things tropical.

Charo's "Cuchi-Cuchi" and suggestive hip gyrations exuded overt sexuality.
Miranda's genius was perhaps not even realized by her; her costumes exuded
sexuality but it was the association with bright-yellow phallic
symbols that became her trademark visual double entendre. Ah, a Freudian field-day.

Early Days — Chapeaux et Chanteuse

Little wonder that Miranda, the daughter of a Portuguese barber
and his stay-at-home wife, first found work as a hat maker, long before fame and
fortune caught up with her. Maria do Carmo Miranda da Cunha was born in Marco de
Canaveses, Portugal on 9 February 1909. The family moved to Rio de Janeiro,
Brazil in 1910, where four out of her five siblings were born.

Her eldest sister, Olinda, was diagnosed with tuberculosis when Carmen was
age 14. To help with the expense of Olinda's treatment, Carmen started working
at a boutique in Rio called La Femme Chic, where she learned how to make
hats. Soon she started her own hat business and her wares sold incredibly well.
The business became so profitable she hired her brother to help her with the
business.

By age 17, Carmen had already acted in low-budget movies. Her big break came
when she was introduced to Brazilian radio personality Josue de Barros. She sang
on the radio and finally cut her first record in 1929, "Samba Não vá Simbora"
for the Brunswick record label. She recorded four songs for RCA Victor in
Brazil, and in August of 1930 signed a contract with the company. The same year,
she earned critical acclaim in her first major theatrical role in "Vai dar o que
Falar."

By 1937, Carmen had switched associations with radio stations, signing a
then-record-breaking $1 million contract with Radio Tupi, making her the
highest-paid radio singer in Brazil. By that time she'd already starred in four
movies with her sister Aurora. She was also performing live in famous venues
such as the Urca Cassino and the Copacabana Cassino in Buenos Aires.

Part of her musical success was based on her fresh and unique interpretations
of the samba, a musical beat and dance which originated in the black slums of
Brazil. This new sound spread throughout South America like wildfire. By 1939,
she'd recorded over three hundred singles.

Banana Business

Miranda's sixth movie, Banana da Terra, included a scene with her
dressed in a banana costume, singing a song; "O que e que a baiana tem?" The
movie, and the song, were both smash hits. She was seen by producer Lee Shubert
(of the still-existent Shubert Theater family in New York), who
convinced her to break her contracts with Brazilian radio and come to America to
perform on Broadway. She did so on one condition, that her band, "Bando da Lua,"
accompany her. Shubert agreed and Miranda and her band ventured to America on
May 4, 1939.

Miranda created a sensation doing the Latin portion of an
international-flavored revue on broadway called Streets of Paris. The
theater-goers sympathized with her, says her website, due to her strong accent
and (occasionally humorous) mispronunciation of English. The language barrier
proved no barrier for Carmen. She became a press sensation. Saks Fifth Avenue
made a fortune selling licensed copies of accessories used by Miranda. Within
one year, she'd been able to send $40,000 back to her family. That's $40,000 1939 dollars. Do the math.

By 1940, 20th Century Fox asked Miranda to star in Down Argentine Way.
A huge success with the U.S. audience, it nonetheless was banned in Argentina
for the blatant stereotyping which presented their country in a very silly way.
Worse, this film and a string of other Technicolor "South-of-the-Border" type
films angered the people of her home country for selling-out to the silly image
Americans had of South Americans. She returned to Brazil for her sister's
wedding and another family function, but was greeted by and large with tirades
from the press. Her former adoring public there turned their backs on her. She
was made to feel quite unwelcome, even booed during a performance.

On a better note, The New York Times said of her first U.S. film
effort, "Miss Miranda sings 'South American Way' and a few Spanish trifles
scorchingly, but we don't see enough of her." Fox went on to include Miranda in
the war-time hits The Gang's All Here, Greenwich Village, Springtime in the
Rockies, Something for the Boys, and Four Jills in a Jeep. After the
war she received good reviews in Doll Face. The last film she'd do for
Fox was If I'm Lucky.

I say 20 words in English. I say money, money,
money, and I say hot dog! I say yes, no and I say money, money, money
and I say turkey sandwich and I say grape juice.

— Carmen Miranda

Due in part to her combined stage and screen career, she was making hundreds
of thousands of dollars annually by the end of World War II. By 1946, Carmen
Miranda earned the distinction of the "actress who paid the highest amount of
income tax in the United States."

Trouble in Paradise

She became ill in 1943 and underwent emergency surgery for a "stomach
ailment." She began to worry about becoming sick again, which spiraled down into
depression, exhaustion, and drug abuse. By 1944, a general infection nearly
claimed her life.

She signed with United Artists in 1947, appearing with Groucho Marx in
Copacabana. The movie tanked, but out of it came a smash hit record for
Carmen, "Tico-tico No Fuba." She married the director of the film, David
Sebastian, the following year.

In 1948, she miscarried. She'd always wanted children but at age 38 she was
told it was too dangerous given her poor health. She and Sebastian separated for
a time, but later reconciled. A second honeymoon was enjoyed in San Francisco.

Also in 1948 she starred with Elizabeth Taylor in A Date With Judy.
Nancy Goes to Rio followed in 1950. By this time, the Carmen Miranda
"novelty" was starting to dry up, so she went on tour doing live singing dates
with her band, She toured the U.S. and appeared frequently in Las Vegas,
performing for the opening of the New Frontier casino and elsewhere. Her world
tour was a whirlwind of performances, all involving stressful choreography. Her
international appearances, however, were acclaimed critically and well-attended.

Her final movie was Scared Stiff, with Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis
and Dorothy Malone. Lewis had a field day with her, sadly. It may have been
funny to some audiences, but it really was a pathetic spoof. Her feelings about
the film deepened her depression. She resorted to electroconvulsive therapy and
finally traveled to Brazil after a fourteen year absence for rest and
relaxation. Under the care of a doctor, she spent nearly two months away from
the public.

Fighting Back

Under the facade of humor and ignorance dwelt a soul full of passion and
commitment. Her English-language faux-pas were intentional; she spoke
English well and also had a fluent command of Spanish, Portuguese and French.
When she visited Brazil in 1940, she responded to the accusations that she'd
sold-out to American stereotypes of Latinos with the song Disseram Que Voltei
Americanizada (They Say I've Come Back Americanized). A song she performed
in Brazil and in U.S. night club acts, Bananas Is My Business, got its
title from a line in one of her movies and was a clever rebuttal to those who'd
criticize her image.

Her image, nonetheless, was problematic. No matter how hard she tried, she
couldn't break away from being type-cast, fruit headdress, broken English and
all. Worse, her image was indeed a kind of amalgam of Brazilian, Mexican and
Cuban stereotypes. She had to endure constant criticism from the Latin-American
community because of her failure to keep her heritage "pure."

The movie industry had taken its toll on her personal identity. She began her
trip down the road of fame with an upbeat personality, sense of humor and
avant-garde style. She'd embraced the black Brazilian culture of her childhood
and used it to entertain and delight audiences. She was an accomplished painter.

Near the end of her life, however, she'd become a caricature of herself; an
example of gaudy excess. She couldn't escape.

The End

On August 5, 1955 Carmen Miranda was taping scenes for the Jimmy Durante
television show. During a particularly difficult dance number she slipped and
fell, complaining she was out of breath. She left the taping and returned to her
home. A party had been scheduled for that evening, in part to celebrate her TV
appearance. She appeared to be in good humor and danced a bit and toasted and
sang. She retired to her room at 2:30 a.m. Her husband found her the next
morning lying on the floor on the bathroom threshold. Apparently, she'd had a
mild heart attack during the Durante taping; followed by a fatal episode later
that evening.

Services were held in Hollywood. Her body was returned to Rio de Janeiro for
burial. Nearly one million Brazilians lined the streets to pay their respects.

Her family insisted that the Durante show be aired. Her final words, however,
were cut from the program.

Her costumes and other personal belongings were donated to a Carmen Miranda
museum in Brazil.

The intersection of Hollywood Boulevard and Orange Drive was named "Carmen
Miranda Square" in 1998. Her niece, also an entertainer, was in attendance.

She has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and her hand and footprints in
cement outside the former Grauman's Chinese Theater in Hollywood were the first
made by a South American actress.